


The Only Future I Long For

by shamebucket



Category: Room No. 9 (Visual Novel)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, this is not a happy fic please take care of yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamebucket/pseuds/shamebucket
Summary: Seiji reflects as best as he can, considering the circumstances. 
(Spoilers for and post Ending C. Please be careful and check the warnings in the author's note.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> The content warnings have spoilers for Ending C and most of Rn9, so if you haven't done that ending, turn back now. 
> 
> \---------------------------------------
> 
> Canon-typical stuff (referenced child abuse, dubcon, strangulation, etc) are a given. I'm adding eating disorders and suicidal ideation as well as sex as self-harm. Please be careful if you are a survivor of romantic or sexual domestic violence, because this is decidedly an unhealthy relationship. I want you to take care of yourself. Do not feel obligated to read this.

I wake up to touch, feather-light but not imperceptible. No, I am hyper-aware of it, for it is _his_ touch. My nerves are on fire as Daichi's hand caresses my arm, his fingers searing my skin, marking me indelibly. I can barely see him at all anymore - all I can process is the sensation of being touched and the near perpetual pressure of blood flowing to my groin. He is in front of me, and I can make out his shape, but it's difficult to see him as Daichi, the man who has been my closest friend for years, any longer. The days blend together at this point, and not only that, but time of day as well. I have no idea if this is after breakfast, lunch, or dinner - a fog has fallen over me and no amount of light will illuminate a safe path home. How long have we been here? I stopped keeping track at day 13, because I finally realized that we're not leaving. It has been so long since then. Hating that fact takes too much energy, so I don't hate it. It's easier to accept it. It's easier to accept that I'm going to die in here with him instead of fighting it. 

"Seiji," he whispers, his narrowed eyes the only change on his impassive visage. I can barely read his once extremely expressive face, but it is clear what he needs. He wants to fuck me again. I want to get fucked, too, most likely. It's the only thing that I can understand at this point - I cannot ignore the feeling of his body against mine, and I feel nearly lucid when he's inside of me at times. I assist him, because feeling something is better than the deep numbness that has enveloped my body in apathy. I kiss him, my tongue sliding into his compliant mouth as I hook a leg over his hips. He reacts rapidly to my body, and I to his. It has been this way since a few days into this experiment. It is now considered normal. 

I'm as broken as he is. There are no lines between us. I can no longer protect him. 

These realizations don't hurt anymore, but his teeth biting into my lip stings. I whimper and he pulls our hips flush to each other. In truth, I am surprised that he's still able to have sex this much. I'm starting to get tired, myself, but I might blame my stomach on that one. It's been over a day since we ate last. The water hasn't been turned off, so at least there is that, but there is only so much a wet mouth can do. It often feels like too much effort to get out of bed, anyway. I most likely smell horrible. I think it has been a few days since I took a shower, and we've had sex at least twice a day for... a very long time, at any rate. Even that I no longer care about - I will smell disgusting shortly after, so is there any reason to clean myself? No. The only person who would care other than myself is Daichi, and he is just as dirty as I am. It is fine. I am not leaving his arms, and he will not leave mine. I have accepted the grime on my skin. 

He pulls out of the kiss and pins me down, and I disengage. His arms are significantly weaker, much less toned and skin sagging in places, so it's not because he's overpowering me. I was always stronger than he is, and still am. Even now, as I am atrophying, I am sure that I could hurt him easily and he would crumple underneath my hands. Occasionally, I stop touching him at all because I fear that my marks will leave bruises and lay back, closing my eyes and solely taking in the sensations of getting fucked by someone who I once considered my dearest friend. I despise myself when a part of my head wonders if Daichi would be easier to recognize if he was hurt, if he resembled even vaguely the boy who I helped up off the convenience store stoop, starving with a yellow bruise peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeve. What was he like back then? What was I like? The Daichi above me is slowly rubbing my nipples as he positions himself between my legs, and I gasp for air, my stomach aching in a sad longing and arousal both. It feels good, better than it should. My nerves have been destroyed to the point where essentially everything he does to me feels good, but I believe he is trying to be as gentle as he can. Even though he is a husk of the man he once was, he still is considerate of me.

He shouldn't be. I do not deserve it. I failed in saving him, after all. I promised myself that we would both become responsible adults together when we were in middle school, and I failed that simple task. 

Blood is ringing in my ears as he pushes into me, no lubrication needed. His cum from a few hours ago is still inside of me and it makes my insides slippery, although it doesn't change how big he feels. He pauses for a moment, checking my face for any signs of discomfort, and takes in a deep breath. I twist my body and moan as he pinches both of my nipples intensely and starts thrusting, the painful pleasure making it hard to tell if I'm drowning in happiness or despair. Maybe they are the same. I don't understand myself. 

I miss the Daichi that balanced his pencil on his lip when he was bored doing schoolwork. The Daichi that would always ask if I wanted something at the vending machine, even though he often barely had enough money to scrape by a decent meal. I miss the Daichi that would occasionally wake me in the middle of the night with a text about a stupid joke. Tears sting my cheeks, and I pretend that it's because this feels good. "More," I cry, my dick pressed hard against my belly. It does feel good, but I miss the Daichi who was my friend, the one who didn't fuck me nonstop as our only form of communication, the one who still made jokes and smiled broadly and even did things like frown and grimace. I open my eyes and look at him. He is thrusting deliberately, surprisingly careful and attentive despite our situation. I want to believe he's still in there. I want to believe I will see him again. But I do not know if I can, or if he exists anymore. 

I close my eyes and make a high pitched whine as he fucks me harder, answering my request. Is he trying to help me, or selfishly using me without being asked? I do not know. I do not know if I care. It feels good, but I am alright with being used. I vividly remember the feeling of his neck in my hands and I know that I deserve every bad thing that happens to me from now on. This is all my fault. This is nobody's fault but mine. 

We must be very low on points. It wasn't the most recent time, but within memory that I can grasp with my fingers, Daichi put all of his food in the refrigerator and insisted that I eat his. "I'm used to being hungry, after all," was all the told me. It was the most he's said to me in - what, maybe it's months at this point. I refused repeatedly with my body language, and when he tried to force me, I started stroking him off and put him inside of me as fast as I could. He understood and fucked me hard, frustration and desire and suffering entwined as his fingers dug into my hips. He ate a little, but I believe he threw most of it away as it got moldy. There are times where he doesn't eat at all, staring at his food with a hunger that I can feel, but he does not do it. I am starving, but I do not eat his food, either. It's maddening. 

I know why he's not eating. The look in his eyes when we saw the emaciated man lying dead on the floor when we first got here is still a fragment of the past that I can remember - he was terrified. And yet, now he is doing this to himself. There are two possible reasons - he is saving his points for when he is truly dying, or he is... - but I see one as more likely than the other. Part of me wants to pretend that Daichi is a bad person, but he is thinking of me. He wants to protect me, too. I hate it. 

I will not let you leave first and free me, Daichi. I will always be here. I will leave with you, if that is what you're doing. 

Sobbing, I pull him down on top of me and squeeze. Despite everything, his body does feel good, I can still feel that there is some part of him that is human and alive. Just barely. We kiss each other and he strokes my face, wiping away my tears as if to say _It's okay, Seiji. I'm here._ The fact that he's here hurts more than it helps. I wish I could be alone with my thoughts, or perhaps alone in the bathroom to end it for him. I do not know how I could figure out a way to end it in the bathroom, but I would find a way. He deserves that much from me. I hate myself for trying to kill him, and being alive is only delaying the inevitable. I know it. He knows it. I do not know how many points are left, but I'm guessing it's a dozen at most. I can't hurt him. He can't hurt me. It's a deadlock. 

I'm better off dead, I think to myself as I feel something hot growing in my core. I wish he'd just kill me or let me kill myself, but instead he is drawing it out in the most painful way possible. Daichi presses his hands down firmly on my chest as his thrusts grow erratic, panting into my mouth with dozens of wet half-kisses as he's growing close. The friction of my cock pressed between our two sticky stomachs is helping me along, my orgasm coming close. Any rational thought is flying out of my mind, I'm getting fucked senseless, the stimulus is intense and it's all I can take in. I can't think of anything else. Daichi can't think of anything else, his eyes half-lidded and overflowing with pleasure. I start thinking that I miss when he looked upset when he was doing anything to me, but the thought evaporates as he fucks me so hard that he's pushing my head against the headboard. Our bodies crash together so violently that it's hard to tell where he starts and I end in places, our limbs entangled in a grotesque erotic mess. I do not register when my orgasm starts and ends, as my body is so overloaded with sexual stimulation that even the gentle caresses and kisses Daichi gives me to try to assure me that it's okay read as something to turn my body on. I don't want this any longer. Even Daichi doesn't have a hard-on anymore, but I do. I can't stop myself. 

I'm so tired. I am so tired. My body is spent but my arousal remains and I allow Daichi to slide between my legs and suck me off as I contemplate a future that I cannot feel or interact with, a future where he is alive and I am dead. All it would take is his hands around my neck or an accident in the bath. It would be over, for me and for him. Daichi could perhaps become okay again, get married and have children like he always wanted. He will be a teacher, and make some kids happy. Give them hope. He knows what it is to despair, and his support would be genuine and warm. I do not know what I want to be in the future, anyway. His tongue is hot and mouth wet and maddeningly tight as he sucks his cheeks in and tries to make me feel good. I feel bad. I feel horrible. He doesn't have to do this, but he feels obligated to, I'm sure. He wouldn't be forced to do this if I was dead. Maybe I can convince him to do something dangerous when we're having sex, I think to myself as I feel myself getting close again. I can't take this. I'm fading to black and losing track of time before I even come. 

I want this to be over, I think to myself as I lose my grip on reality. I truly hope I die soon. It is the only future I long for.


End file.
